


Who Have Waited For Water

by the_rck



Series: Not Ready to Swallow Oblivion [5]
Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dark, Ethical Dilemmas, Family, Multi, Parent-Child Relationship, Reunions, Siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_rck/pseuds/the_rck
Summary: The expression on Barron Battle’s face told her that he was considering pushing, so she sighed. “Small powers do small things. Small things… It’s a matter of leverage and targeted application of force.”In this case, it was simply that Sky High’s doctor was more afraid of Layla than he was of Barron Battle. Layla’d told him what the cause of Stitches' death was, and he’d agreed.Anything Layla did, after all, was natural causes. Zach claimed that Natural Causes was her proper super identity. Layla and Zach thought it was funny. Nobody else did.Magenta supposed that Layla had to laugh because, otherwise, she’d look back at all of the moral lines she’d crossed and her heart would break. Layla wasn’t as crazy or as broken as Magenta had feared she’d end up, but there was a thing she did where she put aside everything but necessity. Magenta thought that was worse because part of what Layla put aside was Layla.





	1. Magenta: So Little Rescued for Posterity

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Meg Day's "Elegy in Translation."
> 
> I'd still label any of the relationships involving Warren as dub-con, but they're not the focus here.
> 
> There's also a background level of implied violence all the way through this.
> 
> This story probably ought to have another chapter or three-- at the very least a Zach POV chapter-- but I don't think I'm going to get to that. I think it's reasonably complete as it is, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Maxine Kumin's "The Burners, the Buriers."

**2011**

Magenta leaned against a wall. There was some sort of drapery behind her that kept the marble from feeling cold. The cloth had a pretty picture with a lot of reds and greens and a bit of gold. Magenta thought it was probably older than anyone present.

She wasn’t enthusiastic about Barron Battle’s parties. Too much drinking. Too much violence. Too much risk. There was a reason none of the others ever attended. Magenta had been vicious enough about establishing her status so that no one fucked with her any more, but any of the other three would end up flattened.

Well, Layla wouldn’t, but she’d have to stop being Layla for the duration, and that would make people notice what she could be. Layla wasn’t ready for that, and Magenta was going to make sure nothing forced her that way.

They were only twenty. Layla had years yet to figure out how to become what she was going to be. Or to figure out how not to if there really was a way for that to work.

Magenta wasn’t even sure where this party was. It hadn’t mattered, so she hadn’t asked. The signs were all in English which narrowed it down some, and the building was pretty clearly a museum. Well, had been. It wouldn’t be much by morning.

All the venues were fancy and expensive. This time, if Magenta had wanted to, she could have taken a famous painting or some such back to Sky High. Barron Battle wouldn’t mind. He’d actually be pleased to indulge her. She could take just about anything-- or anyone-- from anywhere in the world, and he’d indulge her.

She just didn’t want to be that sort of person.

And, really, if she started trying to save art and cultural artifacts, she could bury Sky High a mile deep and not have it be a drop in the bucket. People before things. A few people before all the others.

She would never, ever tell Ethan that she could have. He believed in preserving history and beauty. She could take him one thing, a dozen things, as a gift, and he’d be pleased until he realized how much she’d left behind to be destroyed. He’d think she wouldn’t notice the grief that would take him then, that she couldn’t see through his masks.

None of them were supposed to realize that, somewhere deep down, Ethan hated himself for settling for the possible. As far as history and culture went, that meant mostly digital and microfilm archiving. Sky High had climate controlled spaces they weren’t ever going to use, and Ethan had taken those. He’d sold Warren on the expense by calling it a resource for the children.

Magenta had made sure that Warren bought in.

The food and music at Warren’s father’s parties were always good, and only other people ended up dead by the party’s end. Magenta’d take it over the realistic alternatives every damned time.

It was an easy gig, too, being Warren’s bodyguard here. Not one of Barron Battle’s guests was stupid enough to fuck with Warren. If Magenta didn’t gut them, Warren would torch them. If that didn’t kill them, Barron Battle would probably get creative. All of which meant that Magenta was there as a status symbol for Warren and, a very little bit, to show that Barron Battle liked her.

Not that she was going to slack.

Warren’s father actually wanted Warren safe and happy. Magenta wasn’t quite sure how making Warren attend these shitty parties helped those goals because Warren didn’t enjoy them either. She supposed it was some sort of showy acknowledgement of the relationship, a warning for fools who might think Warren Battle and Sky High were easy meat or even simply low priority.

If they ever had to call for help, Barron Battle would drop everything else because all the rest of it was just for fun. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten the idea that fathers were supposed to protect their children. Even when they didn’t understand them.

So there was one good thing-- well, useful thing-- about Barron Battle.

She saw Warren’s father coming toward her with intent, so she wasn’t surprised when he spoke to her. 

“Magenta, so good of you to come.” He smiled at her and offered her his arm.

Barron Battle wasn’t optional any more than Warren was, so Magenta merely glanced sideways to be sure who Warren was talking to and where he was. There. By the painting with all the dogs. Magenta wouldn’t want to take that one home.

“My people will keep him safe.”

Magenta nodded. If Barron Battle wanted Warren hurt or dead, it would happen, but it didn’t seem likely to be a thing that would come on sudden. Warren was very, very careful about not pissing off his father. She took Barron Battle’s arm and let him lead her to an alcove. She noted the slight change in air pressure that probably meant some sort of privacy effect.

It only took a thin layer of air that wouldn’t vibrate.

There was a vent in the alcove, so they weren’t going to be limited by needing to replenish their oxygen. Magenta assumed that Barron Battle knew how easily an effect like that could be modified to kill.

“Sit.” The word sounded like an invitation, but nothing in the man’s expression made it a choice.

Magenta sat on the edge one of the two heavy, padded, wooden chairs. She wondered how old they were and whether or not they’d still be whole in the morning. She wondered, too, what the hell Barron Battle wanted.

Warren’s father sat in the chair facing her. He studied her for several seconds. “We’ve known each other for years now.” He sounded oddly tentative.

“We have,” Magenta replied. If he’d been someone else, she’d have smiled, but Barron Battle wouldn’t notice either way. He was only about half as good at people as Warren was, and by all indications, he’d learned that in prison.

All four of them had gotten used to making small talk with Warren’s father. Six years would do that. So Magenta was prepared for conversation; she just didn’t think that small talk was the reason for the privacy shield. It also wasn’t the reason the most terrible villain in the world was hesitating.

“If I--” He paused as if searching for words. “If I told Warren to kill you or one of the others, would he?”

Magenta narrowed her eyes as she considered her answer. She was almost certain that he wasn’t actually thinking about having Warren murder her or any of the others, so it was a question about Warren’s well-being rather than a threat. He wanted to know if his son had healed any.

Which, if Warren hadn’t, likely was something Zach would lie about if Windy Endicott asked, so grilling Magenta on the subject made some sense.

Windy Endicott was nearly as good at people as Warren was. Magenta thought it was a pity that Windy had no interest in men. She’d be a much safer almost stepmother for Warren than Gwen was. Of course, Gwen was a hell of a lot prettier.

“Probably,” she said at last, glad that she didn’t have to lie. “He’d delay it, draw it out, maybe protest, in hopes of something changing, but he’d have to because it was you. Anybody else, and he’d tell them to go fuck themselves. And then set them on fire.” She paused then raised her chin a little. “If you do, you’d damned well better get all four of us at once and be really fucking careful about what you let Warren do after. He’d have to obey, but...” She shrugged. “He spent years working around that.” She was almost certain that the warning was unnecessary, that Barron Battle had no intention of destroying them all that way, but it was the sort of thing where being wrong would be lethal. She sighed. “Some landmines can’t be removed, just mapped and worked around.”

Barron Battle leaned back in his chair. “I’m not planning to, and I’d rather he not know I asked.”

“I don’t think he knows that you know any of it.” Magenta closed her eyes for a moment. She really wasn’t the one who should be having this conversation. Then she tried to imagine it with Ethan or Layla. “But… Part of him, deep down, wonders if you knew way back when and thought it was all good. If you were okay with it or planned it.” Her hands tightened on the padded wooden arms of her chair. Ethan and Layla didn’t actually understand that part, not to put it into words. “We can’t exactly tell him why we think you didn’t.” Her claws extended, piercing fabric and then wood.

“Are more things real for him now than they used to be?” He sounded sincerely sad.

“I think so.” Magenta shrugged. “Ethan and Layla have more opinions about that and a lot of words to explain it. Understanding Warren--” She shook her head. “I don’t think the four of us are quite on the same tightrope we used to be, but figuring him out was life and death once upon a time.”

Barron Battle stroked his chin. “At the time, I expected you to be mayflies, footnotes at most.” His smile was just a little sharp. “Now… I suppose it depends on who writes the histories.”

“I think that Warren would rather be a footnote.” Magenta thought that Barron Battle already knew that. “Not if it costs us or any of the kids-- including Maureen-- but, for a long time, not being noticed was his surest survival.”

“Which one of you is the assassin?”

Magenta gave him a hard look. “Need someone killed?”

“Not that way.” He sounded amused.

“For you, we might. The reason would need to be pretty damned good, though.”

“Which means it’s not you.”

She was a bit surprised that he didn’t know. Layla’s absence from Sky High around the time Warren’s mother died had to be in Barron Battle’s spies’ reports. He wasn’t likely to guess even a fraction of what Layla could do, but they’d all assumed that he’d put that much together a long time back.

Magenta spread her hands wide. “Does it actually matter?”

He laughed. “No. Yes.” He shook his head. “Killing wouldn’t touch you, but it would damage any of the other three if I asked them to do it for me.”

Something inside her relaxed a little at the statement. She hadn’t thought that would matter to him.

“As you all are now,” Barron Battle went on, “you’re good for Warren. He’s happy. I won’t undermine that just to have fun.”

“That,” Magenta told him, “is why you’re alive.” She hadn’t planned to say it, but she thought it needed to be out there as a thing he couldn’t miss. She tilted her head to one side. “Cost-benefit analysis.” She hesitated for a moment then added, “Warren almost certainly knows that we might try to kill you. He just trusts that we won’t do it unless it really needs doing.” She smiled and let it go feral. “Like he trusts that I will put a knife in him if it ever needs doing. It won’t, but he and I both know that I will.”

“He loves you.”

Magenta nodded then gave a single shouldered shrug to show how little relevance that had. “Warren knows me. I’m the god-damned slave at the Triumph, whispering in the conqueror’s ear.” It wasn’t much fun, but none of the others could do it.

There was silence for a few seconds, and she could see understanding on Barron Battle’s face.

“Ethan, Layla, and Zach are… sweet,” Barron Battle said.

Magenta snorted. She might have given him Zach being sweet, but that would narrow down the options as to the assassin. Assuming that Barron Battle didn’t already know.

“I would not… object to grandchildren. Not even ones not genetically related to me.”

“That’s good,” Magenta said dryly, “because you’ve had two dozen of those for years now.”

Barron Battle’s laugh lasted for several seconds. When he stopped, he looked thoughtful.

Magenta hoped that didn’t mean he was going to take more interest in the kids.

“I don’t know if we will. Ever.” Magenta put serious intention into every word. No way in hell was she bringing a baby into this shitty situation. “That we haven’t-- I’m twenty, and I know what I’d be promising the kid. Layla is-- is Layla.” She really didn’t want to explain Layla, and she thought that Barron Battle knew Layla well enough to assume he understood even though he couldn’t. “Right now, we only have to keep Sky High going long enough for Maureen to figure out who she wants to be.” That was a long way off, but the prospect of any of the kids leaving chilled Magenta. “Twenty years, give or take.”

“I’m willing to invest in the infrastructure.” He met her eyes. “Money’s mostly for keeping score, so why not?”

Warren had money. He mostly went in for non-violent theft with the idea that it was less likely to result in artillery firing on Sky High and with a few suggestions from Ethan that the kids might find hacking and electronic theft less scary than arson. They’d been plowing the money back into Sky High and putting it into things they didn’t want Warren’s father knowing about, but Magenta supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to have Barron Battle paying for an expansion of the island or for transportation that wasn’t bright yellow and intended for getting children to and from school.

Zach said that replacing the buses ‘constituted a major financial outlay’ that he couldn’t justify as long as the old ones were still in good shape. As far as any of them knew, Sky High had been using the same buses for decades. Zach saw no reason why they shouldn’t last decades more.

Layla had ideas about how to enlarge the island, but most of them involved revealing her showier powers. Magenta was against that because Layla was their secret weapon. She’d probably be happier not being, but it would make her a target and, potentially, a scapegoat. Everyone understood why four sidekicks would surrender, but Layla was actually-- now-- more powerful than Warren was.

Magenta also wasn’t sure that Layla’s expansions wouldn’t crumble if Layla died. Layla might be immortal, but it really wasn’t the way to bet.

She’d let the silence stretch too long, but Barron Battle was merely studying her face. “One or two more kids wouldn’t stretch things much,” she told him. “Just… Adding one makes adding another… Slippery slope. We’ve made promises to the ones we have.”

Twenty four kids with the same birth date was kind of stretching things already. Their needs made providing for anyone who didn’t fit the group that much harder.

And they were already jealous of Maureen. They pitied her, too, because she was alone, but they were old enough to understand that, because there was only one of her, everything she had was _hers_.

“I occasionally have children to… put somewhere.”

Magenta showed her teeth. She let them change just enough to show how nasty her bite could be. “No hostages. You use us for that, and Warren won’t even blink when we kill you. He doesn’t like you _that_ much. Any kid who comes to Sky High is safe from you and yours.”

For the first time, Barron Battle seemed to understand that Magenta wasn’t kidding about them killing him and seemed to accept that maybe they could. He straightened in his chair. “The option for hostages would be convenient.” He made a tossing away gesture. “It’s less important than Warren. Or than Maureen.”

Maureen was so obviously an afterthought that Magenta was surprised that the man bothered to mention his daughter. That would be a thing to protect her from, later, if it went on. Ethan thought that Barron Battle would start to be interested about the time Maureen started talking. Ethan said that Barron Battle not being interested in babies might explain a lot about Warren and Warren’s mother.

Magenta supposed that Sylvia’s power made an easy way to keep a child quiet and smiling. It was a really fucking stupid way to raise a kid, but Warren’s mother hadn’t, by all reports, been bright enough to consider consequences.

“Do you know how they built Sky High to begin with?” Magenta thought that changing the subject might ease things.

“Someone with the power to tear and shape rock,” he said. “Some levitation and a lot of magic. The technology only became part of it about thirty five years ago when magic started getting… less reliable.”

Magenta wondered how they stuffed all of the technology into the rock _after_ they already had it as a solid thing, let alone after they had it in the air, but it had been running for a long time before Homecoming.

“Magic still works,” Barron Battle added, “but it’s less flexible and all-encompassing than it used to be. The tipping point happened some time in the 70s or 80s. I’ll have my people dig up what they can and send some experts visit Sky High to talk to Zach and Layla.”

Magenta nodded. She was wary of letting Layla near this because she might reveal her powers, but Layla was the dreamer. Zach knew budgeting and logistics. “Even if we can build it stable, there are practical limitations. Past a certain size, we might as well land. Also, we have twenty five kids who need space. No long construction projects.” She looked at her hands for a moment. “Warren doesn’t care about kids in general, just in specific. Gwen has a baby with someone who isn’t you, and Warren wouldn’t care. Not because he’d trust her more than with Maureen.”

Warren might take a child from Gwen even if it didn’t share a father with him, but that would be spite rather than any sense of connection to the infant. Warren’s biggest fear about Gwen and Maureen had been his father taking Gwen’s side. If the baby had a different father, Barron Battle wouldn’t care what Warren did with it.

Magenta thought that Barron Battle would have enjoyed going to war with Royal Pain. She’d be an interesting opponent, a powerful one, and there were a lot of other pretty young women who’d be happy to have sex with him. Gwen was replaceable. Warren wasn’t.

And, well… Warren said that making Gwen afraid of him was one of the nicest things his mother had ever done for him. Then the five of them had argued about whether or not the age gap between Gwen and Warren’s father was creepy and about whether or not there was an age gap at all. It hadn't actually mattered because it was Gwen, someone they already loathed.

“How did you manage to murder Stitches?”

Magenta gave him a glare that she hoped communicated that she didn’t believe he thought she’d answer. “Stitches’ stroke was very unfortunate. He did so well raising Gwen that I’m sure Maureen would have adored him.” She didn’t bother trying to sound convincing. “He’d have been a great addition to Sky High’s staff.”

The expression on Barron Battle’s face told her that he was considering pushing, so she sighed. “Small powers do small things. Small things… It’s a matter of leverage and targeted application of force.”

In this case, it was simply that Sky High’s doctor was more afraid of Layla than he was of Barron Battle. Layla’d told him what the cause of death was, and he’d agreed.

Anything Layla did, after all, was natural causes. Zach claimed that Natural Causes was her proper super identity. Layla and Zach thought it was funny. Nobody else did.

Magenta supposed that Layla had to laugh because, otherwise, she’d look back at all of the moral lines she’d crossed and her heart would break. Layla wasn’t as crazy or as broken as Magenta had feared she’d end up, but there was a thing she did where she put aside everything but necessity. Magenta thought that was worse because part of what Layla put aside was Layla.

Barron Battle sighed and pushed up from his chair. “I choose beautiful women, powerful women. I seem to be bad at knowing what sort of parents they’ll be.”

Magenta wasn’t touching that one. “We’ll always have room for Warren’s siblings,” she said. “Sky High is as safe as we can make it and really fucking hard to find.”

“Yes, I know.” For a moment, he looked tired. “I’m sending two people back with you tonight. One is a child. One is injured. What happens to them after the injured man heals is… They’d be safer at Sky High, but it is a choice I won’t take from you.”

Which meant, Magenta suspected, that one or more of her friends were going to see family. “Injured how?”

“Some broken bones. A wall fell on him. Fortunately, one of my people recognized him and jumped the chain of command when her supervisor didn’t think that digging him out was important.” There was a solid, cutting thread of anger in Barron Battle’s voice.

Magenta knew that the anger was for leaving this particular person under the rubble rather than for leaving people to die in general, but she expected that the supervisor had already paid for the disobedience. She sighed. “We had thought that, once the kids start coming into powers, some sort of post-battle search and rescue might be a way to start.” She made herself meet Barron Battle’s eyes. She was pretty sure that he’d understand that wasn’t a start that aimed the kids at villainy.

Whatever else he was, Barron Battle wasn’t stupid. By the time the Homecoming kids were twenty, he’d be well into his 50s, but the overlap between his rampages and the kids’ asserting themselves might still last decades.

Warren’s father smiled with sharp edges. “I appreciate worthy opponents.”

Magenta smiled, showing her teeth again. “We just want them to have choices.” She didn’t add ‘the ones we didn’t have.’ She had no need to; Barron Battle heard it anyway.

 

*****

 

The child was the younger of Zach’s two sisters. The man was Layla’s father.

Sarah had been three when Zach left for Homecoming. She recognized him from photographs, but she didn’t remember him and didn’t relax when she saw him. She’d gone with Warren and Magenta because she didn’t have a choice, and she’d stayed as close to the gurney upon which Mr Williams lay as she could.

Mr Williams wasn’t a lot of help because they’d doped him up pretty thoroughly before handing him over. Magenta wasn’t sure if it was that he was in that much pain or if it was an effort to keep him biddable. It didn’t matter so much because Magenta was pretty damned sure Sky High’s medical staff would do everything possible for Layla’s father.

One of their people tried to get Sarah to talk and pushed hard enough to make the girl press herself against the gurney.

“Wilks,” Magenta said in a voice that carried from one end of the bus to the other. “Shut the fuck up and leave the kid alone. I’m pretty sure she’s seen enough that me gutting you wouldn’t make the trauma worse.” She thought that Wilks was trying to be kind rather than creepy, but it didn’t matter if he was that bad at it.

Zach’s sister stared at Magenta, wide-eyed.

Magenta winked at her and then pretended the girl wasn’t there.

Warren called ahead to have a medical team meet them. He asked Zach to meet the bus and Layla to wait in the renovated, expanded infirmary. He didn’t tell either what to expect. Their communications were probably secure, but none of them assumed.

Also, both of them would worry if they knew before they saw.

After they exited the bus, Magenta could tell that Zach desperately wanted to hug his sister, and Magenta wouldn’t have stopped him trying, but she was just as happy that he didn’t. 

Instead, he smiled and said, “I’ll sound stupid if I tell you you’re bigger than when I saw you last.”

Magenta heard the pain in the words, and she was pretty sure Warren caught it, too. She was equally sure that Zach’s sister didn’t hear it.

“When did you eat last, Sarah?” Zach said. “I cook here. Well, I tell the cooks what to do, mostly, but some of it’s Mom’s recipes, not as good but we’re trying.”

Sarah nodded. She relaxed a little. “They gave me an apple before they gave me to her--” She jerked her chin at Magenta. “Before that, it was a sandwich. It was ham, but Mr Williams said I’d better eat it anyway because we didn’t know--” Her voice broke.

“That was the right thing to do,” Zach assured her. He was better at hiding anger than he’d been at fourteen, but Magenta could see that he was beyond pissed off. 

Sky High wasn’t insulation against factional politics, and some assholes liked to remind them of that. Then Magenta and Warren had to remind them that people who hurt Zach, Ethan, or Layla didn’t survive. Since this had involved upsetting Sarah as well as pissing off Zach, Magenta planned to be cruel. Which should have been predictable.

Becoming one of Barron Battle’s junior minions wasn’t really a career path that drew smart people. Even if the asshole hadn’t been taking a deliberate shot at Zach, whoever it was deserved pain for not asking the kid what she could eat. She was _ten_.

Magenta was pretty sure that Warren would find whoever the hell it had been before she managed to, but, just in case, she’d investigate herself. Neither of them would tell Zach, but he’d know because they did that for each other.

It just wouldn’t make the whole thing not have happened to Sarah, and what Zach wanted was for Sarah and Naomi and their parents to still be in that nice suburban house with normal lives that didn’t involve death and violence as normal things.

Zach knew that Warren’s offer to take his family in was always going to be open. Ethan had that option, too. Neither of them wanted to take Warren up on it because it meant making their lies bigger.

They didn’t like what happened when Layla went cold, either. 

Zach’s voice remained calm as he said, “We’ve got better options than that. You can go to the infirmary with Mr Williams, and I’ll bring you some things you can choose from, or you can come with me and see what I’ve got.”

Sarah hesitated, visibly torn.

Magenta thought it was a good sign that she’d even consider going with Zach.

“His daughter’s waiting for him in the infirmary,” Zach said, pointing at Mr Williams. “Layla’d probably be glad to hear how he was doing before.” He closed his eyes for a moment then added, “Nobody on the island is going to hurt either of you.”

“It’s true,” Warren said. He hadn’t tried to talk to Sarah earlier. She’d pretty clearly recognized him and been afraid of him. “Everyone here answers to me, and you have my word.”

Sarah nodded but didn’t look convinced.

“I thought we’d put her in one of the dorm rooms. There’s room for a cot in most of them. Better there than with Maureen.” Magenta thought Sarah needed to hear it. If Magenta hadn’t thought so, she’d just have made the arrangements. She looked at Sarah and added, “Maureen’s Warren’s sister and still isn’t sleeping through the night. You’re older than the other girls by about three years, but I think that’s a better fit.”

The kids were two or three to a room. Setting that up had taken some work, but they’d had time to plan and build. Ethan and Layla were still arguing about the psychological effects of occasionally reshuffling who roomed with whom. Layla worried about cliques. Ethan worried about instability.

Magenta didn’t think that roommates mattered that much on the instability scale. The main thing was that the kids knew they had adults who would take care of them. She, Zach, Ethan, and Layla, each had six Homecoming kids that they particularly looked out for. Magenta expected some swapping things around when the kids started specializing, but they were six, and that hadn’t come up yet. 

All four of them taught at least one class, partly so that all of the kids would know them and partly because they didn’t trust anyone else to do it right. Ethan and Layla taught more classes because Magenta and Zach had to work around their other responsibilities. Also, the kids weren’t why Magenta and Zach stayed.

Sarah ended up going with Mr Williams to the infirmary. 

Magenta was pretty sure that Layla’d be able to put the girl at ease. Layla still looked harmless. She was the most dangerous person on the island and possibly in the world, but she looked and sounded like a hippy-dippy flake.

Once Sarah was gone, Magenta hugged Zach and whispered, “It’ll be okay. She’ll get used to us.”

“I kind of hope she doesn’t,” he whispered back.

Because that would only happen if Sarah stayed.


	2. Layla: Very Good at Holding My Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Katie Willingham's "Internal Reasons and the Obscurity of Blame."
> 
> This chapter is still set in 2011. I haven't anchored the events to any more specific date.

Layla started worrying when word came that Warren wanted her waiting in the infirmary. He wouldn’t do that unless she was needed for something. For _someone_. She couldn’t imagine who it might be because, if he were hurt or if Magenta was, he’d have told her that. Anyone else-- Well, he wouldn’t wake her for anyone else.

The gurney, therefore, wasn’t entirely a surprise. The girl walking next to it was, however. Layla recognized her from the photos on Zach’s desk. “Sarah?”

The girl stared at Layla for a moment then nodded. She glanced at the gurney, and Layla followed her gaze.

Layla brought her hands up to cover her mouth. She shuddered. “Daddy--?” She could barely force the word out.

“They made him sleep,” Sarah said. She sounded frightened and tired. “They didn’t tell us what was going to happen.”

Layla stepped in close and touched her father’s cheek. She could feel the sedatives in his blood. “Is he hurt?” She was almost certain that he must be.

“A wall fell on him.”

“Ms Williams--” That was the senior doctor. “Broken leg, left. Cracked ribs. Broken arm and collarbone, right. Some internal bleeding, now resolved. No head injury. They stabilized him before they sent him up. He should wake soon, but he’s going to be hurting.”

Layla closed her eyes. Of course they’d stabilized him. If her father had died or had still been likely to, Barron Battle would never have admitted that his people had been anywhere near. She nodded, opened her eyes, and bent to kiss her father’s cheek. When she straightened, she stepped back to let the doctor take her place. Then, she put a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “We can sit over there and watch.”

They sat in silence for a while, just watching as the medical staff changed the bag attached to Layla’s father’s IV, checked his vitals, and set up monitors.

“Where were you?” Layla asked softly. “You were together, right?”

Sarah didn’t answer for a moment. Then, she said, “Birmingham. Alabama. Four days ago, I think. Maybe.” She shrugged.

Layla wondered what would have happened to Sarah if Layla’s father had died. With Sylvia Peace long dead, editing people’s memories wasn’t an option.

“The wall didn’t fall on me,” Sarah said. “I wasn’t with Mr Williams, not until a while after they caught me. It was him, Battle himself. He was just there, in front of me, and--” She shook her head. “He said my name. He knew who I was.” She shuddered.

“He promised us,” Layla said. “Years ago, he promised that our families would be safe. I think he meant more that he wouldn’t hunt you.” She felt a little better about Sarah now. They’d kept the girl away from Layla’s father long enough to be sure she wouldn’t know if he died. “It’s safe up here, no falling buildings, no fighting or explosions.”

Then Zach came in with two members of the kitchen staff. Each of the three carried a tray.

Zach watched carefully to see what Sarah tasted and how she responded to each morsel.

Layla supposed that Zach had no idea what else he could give his little sister. She wondered if there was any chance that Mr and Mrs Goldstein would let Sarah stay on Sky High. Sarah would be safer, but Layla wasn’t sure if Zach’s parents could bear losing another child to the place. If Layla were a mother, she’d choose separation over the risks of keeping the child groundside, but Layla had been sheltered for the last few years in ways that the Goldsteins hadn’t been. Maybe time together was more valuable than time in general.

Layla wasn’t absolutely sure that she even could have children. She might still be human enough, but she wasn’t sure. She’d taken a lot of steps down the path to not being. She also still thought that Warren had been right when he’d asked what the hell they’d do with another baby.

Even if Maureen was technically the only baby on the island now.

Warren’s little sister was going to be spoiled as hell. All five of them wanted to play with her and hold her and feed her. They all remembered the good parts about having babies around. Layla supposed that having all the support staff had helped that part a lot. Twenty four all at once had been overwhelming.

“We can set you up with a bed tonight,” Zach said. “If that’s what you want. I just need to know because we don’t want to wake Luisa and Kit unless you’ll use the bed.” He glanced at Layla. “Ethan thought they’d do best with a stranger.”

Layla translated that as ‘they might actually go back to sleep after Sarah arrives.’ She doubted that would happen, but she approved on other grounds. Kit and Luisa could use the social boost that playing host to Sarah would bring.

Layla smiled at Zach and Sarah. “None of the kids have ever met an older kid before,” she told Sarah. “I think they’re going to hang on your every word.”

Which could be a problem. Layla saw Zach realize it the same moment she did.

“Sarah.” Zach looked very serious. “They’re little, and they don’t know what it’s like out there. We’re not hiding it from them, but we also don’t want to scare them. They’ll believe you if you say it’s terrible, but they’ll also believe you if you tell them it’s all Disney and talking animals.”

Sarah’s jaw set. “I know how to look after little kids. Sometimes… It’s the only way I can help.”

Zach and Layla exchanged a glance.

“Ms Williams--” the doctor interrupted them. “I think your father’s waking up.”

Layla stood. She could talk to Sarah later.

Her father roused long enough to see her and to recognize her. “Layla--?” It was the barest whisper.

Layla put a hand on his cheek. “You’re safe on Sky High, Daddy,” she said. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I promise.” She felt some of the fear leave his body when she spoke.

His lips moved again, and she leaned in close to be sure she heard. “Sarah? She was-- Is she--?”

“She’s here, Daddy. We’re just figuring out where she can sleep. You’re both going to be here for a while.” Layla felt guilty for being glad that her father had been injured. She was pretty sure that, if he hadn’t been, Barron Battle would simply have released him and Sarah together.

Zach and Layla wouldn’t have gotten to see them. Not even for a second.

Layla managed not to cry until her father fell asleep again.

*****

It was days before the doctor released Layla’s father from the infirmary, and, even then, he still needed pretty much round the clock care because he couldn’t get to the toilet without help. He just didn’t need skilled medical care any longer, merely an occasional look in by the doctor or one of the nurses.

Layla had stayed with her father as much as she could. She still had classes to teach, and there were some things in her greenhouses that she couldn’t rely on anyone else to take care of. Mostly, Magenta sat with Layla’s father while Layla was busy. She had more flexibility in her schedule than Zach or Ethan did, and Warren didn’t seem to want to be in the same room with Layla’s father.

“He won’t want to talk to me,” Warren said.

Layla knew her father. He definitely wanted to talk to Warren. She regarded Warren through narrowed eyes as she considered whether to push. Finally, she sighed. “You can’t avoid it forever,” she told him.

“Long enough.” Warren gave her a look she couldn’t read. “You’re going to tell him a lot of things, aren’t you?”

“I’d rather not,” Layla said. Which wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination ‘no.’ Her father would ask, and she wouldn’t lie. Much.

Then her father would ask Zach who would lie about different things. Her father would certainly notice that, so Layla would probably have to answer anyway. Getting it over with might be easier. 

She just wanted more time before her father couldn’t meet her eyes.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone near Birmingham if he’d known you and Zach had family in town. He tries to track them, but they try pretty damned hard not to be tracked.”

Layla nodded because she understood that both things were true.

“The part about not telling them what was going to happen next was just Dad being an asshole.” Warren hesitated for a moment. “I’m pretty sure that was aimed more at your father than at Sarah.”

Layla nodded again because Barron Battle was predictable in that way. He hurt people, he destroyed things, all because it was fun. He liked other people’s fear. He liked seeing his own power crushing all resistance.

Barron Battle didn’t give a flying fuck about not hurting children, but he loved Warren, and it mattered to Warren.

Mostly, it mattered to Warren because it mattered to Layla, Zach, and Ethan. Warren had ideas about efficient administration and fairness and ethics for similar reasons.

Magenta’s attitude on those subjects was that she didn’t need to know that shit as long as the rest of them did, but she listened carefully when any of the others was having a problem explaining something to Warren. Then she yanked out the salient points and beat Warren over the head with them until he gave in.

Layla still thought that the tactic shouldn’t work, but she’d seen Magenta succeed over and over again. Probably it was more that it was Magenta doing it than it was how she was doing it.

*****

Layla’s father didn’t ask nearly as many questions as she’d expected him to. She wasn’t sure if that meant that he already guessed the answers or if that meant that he was as afraid to hear the truth as she was to speak it.

So she started with a question herself. “Do you know how Ethan’s family is?” Asking that was so much easier than asking about her mother or about Will.

“Trish is teaching somewhere in Illinois, a small town. Third or fourth grade, I think. She’s not much interested in talking to her parents’ friends, so it’s all secondhand through George and Lisa. I think Trish is hoping that she can just keep her head down and be safe.” 

Layla could certainly understand the temptation. Ethan’s older sister would probably succeed because Barron Battle wouldn’t touch her home and because a small town wasn’t going to draw other big predators. The smaller ones… Well, the big predators only tolerated them so far.

“George remarried two years ago,” her father said. “I assume Ethan knows that. Helen’s a good person, and their son is two months old. Ethan might not know he’s got a baby brother. Derek. That’s the baby’s name. Lisa hasn’t remarried, but she’s pretty serious with-- I forget her name. Clara? Cheryl? Caroline? It’s a c name.” He sighed. “But Lisa hasn’t told her about Ethan, so maybe not.”

Layla thought she could see how that might not be a thing to share casually. She looked down at her hands. “We’d take any of you in, you know. It’s a… moral compromise for you all, but if they’ve got a new baby--?”

Her father’s expression went very still. “I’ll pass that along.”

She heard the question he didn’t ask. “I’d rather you stayed, but nobody’s going to make you. Not once you can look after yourself.” She tried not to allow any trace of her desperate wish for him to stay into the words. She was old enough to know that her parents couldn’t make everything better. “I could have killed us all,” she told him softly. “I still could. Always. I just… It wasn’t going to be-- I wanted us to live.”

She wasn’t sure any longer that the doorway she’d seen years ago had been real, but as she got older, she became more certain that, even if it was, it wouldn’t have been what she’d thought it was. That might be her lying to herself. It also might not.

She had to hold tight to Layla while she could because, when she gave that up, she could be monstrous.

“I know, sweetheart.” He sounded so sad that Layla wished she could change history. “Given the kids, I… I would probably have done the same.” He took a deep breath. “Sarah says they’re happy kids.”

Layla smiled and tried to pretend that her eyes weren’t wet. “They are. I’ll make sure you meet some of them. They don’t quite understand the concept of parents as anything but something in stories, not yet, and they’ll have to eventually.” She let her eyes unfocus a little. “They know family and team, though, and they know they’re safe.

“Warren and I don’t ever leave Sky High at the same time.” She made herself meet her father’s eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything downside for them that’s better than what’s up here. Not… Not given circumstances.”

Not given Barron Battle’s hobbies. Not given that any place could become a war zone at any moment even without Barron Battle.

“I need to meet Warren.”

Her laugh was half sob. “I think he’s afraid of you. He knows we’ll all be pissed if he hurts you, and--” She shook her head. “The people up here all belong to us, but he’s still got to play for the audience.” She wanted to look away. She didn’t want to see the expression on his face when he understood that she was admitting that Warren would hurt him.

“You know that by experience, don’t you?” His tone was so carefully neutral that Layla knew he was afraid of the answer.

She was afraid of it, too, but she couldn’t keep her arms covered forever. “We almost escaped once, about a month after Homecoming.” She made the words as flat as she could. “If it had worked, we’d have gotten the babies out, too, but it meant taking Warren hostage.”

Her father inhaled sharply.

“We knew what was likely to happen if we failed.” She made herself shrug and tried not to show her relief that he understood just from that. “We… weren’t wrong. Apart from that, he really tried not to hurt us physically, so it was time that got us really.” She met her father’s eyes again. “He knows that, if there was a way to take the kids and keep them as safe as here, we’d go.”

It was a lie. Probably. Possibly. Maybe. There might be a way, but she kept turning away because getting there would require more power than she had or wanted.

“We couldn’t separate them, and twenty four kids make a lot of work.” She wasn’t going to mention Maureen, not yet. Layla didn’t think that Maureen was relevant. “As long as we’re with Warren, Barron Battle is paying the bills.” She knew how Warren’s father got his money, but that didn’t change the fact that two dozen six year olds ate a lot and outgrew their clothing pretty often. “Whatever else Warren may be, he’s never hurt any of those kids, and he’s got the whole place centered on what they need. My letters didn’t lie about that.”

“But you lied about something.”

“I… omitted a lot.” She’d only been able to send a letter every few months and that only after Warren’s mother was safely buried. Getting those delivered had been difficult because her parents really were trying to hide their location. She hadn’t wanted to give away any of their secrets.

Not that they’d likely kept many-- any-- of the places she’d ever visited. What she knew, she might tell. Warren hadn’t ever asked. His father hadn’t either. But Layla might have told if they had asked.

“We guessed.”

She couldn’t read his expression or his voice. She was too afraid of seeing condemnation or disappointment. 

“Layla--”

She couldn’t help flinching.

“Sweetheart, don’t. There isn’t anything that would make me stop loving you.”

“I know,” she said. “I just…” She shook her head. She raised one hand and started pulling mold spores out of the air. “Sylvia Peace could fuck with people’s heads. She wasn’t a mind reader, but she could insert or take away memories and put on compulsions. That’s why… Well, it explains Warren.” Layla kept her eyes on her hand as she very deliberately layered on spores that were a different color than her skin. “I never got close enough to actually see her face,” she said softly. “It was a hell of a lot safer for all of us that way.”

She heard her father try to sit up and reach for her, so she wasn’t particularly surprised by his gasp of pain when his body didn’t cooperate. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I know that’s one thing neither you nor Mom wanted for me. It’s just… Someone had to.” She looked at him and was a little surprised to realize that he was blurry. She wiped one eye and then the other with her spore-free hand.

She let the spores go slowly. When her skin was all her own again, she looked at her father. “I don’t do it casually or for spite, and no one not currently on the island knows that I can.” She took a deep breath. “Warren kept the four of us in the girls’ locker room for months. I had to find a way to work with what was there.”

“Layla--”

She could tell that he was searching for words. “We’re all-- even Warren-- more sane than we ought to be.” She really wanted her father to understand that part.

“I could tell that from your letters.” Her father sounded tired. Beyond tired. “I’m sorry. We failed you. It took us too long to realize any of you were alive.”

“I don’t think it would have mattered.” Layla had thought about that a lot over the years. “Warren’s parents both wanted him safe. His father still does.”

“Does Battle know?” Her father sounded frightened of that possibility.

She shrugged. “I don’t think he _knows_ , but he might guess. At this point, it’s pretty clear that Warren has someone who can kill with mold.” She hesitated. “Mildew, algae, and fungi would all work, too. I just haven’t used them because I haven’t needed to.” She wasn’t going to mention other things she’d tried, turned away from, and then gone back to, over and over and over, or the things she thought were possible but hadn’t let herself try. She hid from those, even in her own mind, because she needed the idea that she _couldn’t_ do some things.

She raised her chin. “If Warren’s father ever comes after us, I can take him. He won’t, but I could. I’d have to because Warren can’t. If Battle was smart, I’d have to take Warren on, too, but I could. I would.” It took her about five seconds to realize that the look on her father’s face wasn’t horror over her having killed and being willing to do it again but rather over how cold-blooded she was being in discussing it. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“No. You’re using your head.” He didn’t quite sound as if he believed it, but the fact that he’d try meant something. “I taught you to survive. This… This is part of that.”

“I had to… I narrowed things to what was possible.” Layla’s shoulders tightened. “And I prioritized.”

“And you put yourself last.”

It wasn’t a question, but she nodded confirmation anyway. She was almost certain that he wouldn’t believe her if she explained her real choice and how it had actually put her humanity before almost everything else, before everything but three friends and twenty four children. “I had to. Being the person I want to be, I mean. The hardest part was not destroying the island. I could have. I still could.” She bit her lip and hesitated. “There are probably reasons why I still might consider it.” She let her face show that it wasn’t a thing she wanted. She rolled her shoulders, trying to drop some tension.

“Oh, Layla.”

“The kids are worth everything.” She put that forward to answer the pain in her father’s voice. “And… Barron Battle has figured out that Warren needs us and needs the kids. He could give Warren orders, and Warren would have to--” She shook her head. “At that point, Warren would-- Well, Warren’s sure he remembers back to a week before Homecoming. He chose us. That was all him. I’m not actually sure how much damage he’d do if he shattered. A lot of things would burn.”

There was more than enough spite in Warren to fuel years of destruction if he lost his anchors. Barron Battle wanted to be able to keep playing, so he left people behind. Warren wouldn’t be playing, so nothing human in his path would survive.

“Are you--? Does he--?” Her father shook his head and then winced as that shifted parts of his body that weren’t happy to move.

It took her longer than it should have to realize that he was asking about sex, about whether or not Warren had raped her. Was raping her. She took a deep breath, held it for three seconds, then released it. “The five of us share a couple of large rooms across the hall.” She reddened. Reassuring her father meant addressing who did what with whom. “It’s not like a big orgy or anything, but…” She looked at the corner where the walls became ceiling. “All of us are together.” 

Except that Warren and Magenta didn’t touch in private, not sexual touching anyway. That simply wasn’t Layla’s secret to tell, and, really, that didn’t mean that either of them wasn’t part of the group or that Warren didn’t love Magenta.

She was pretty sure that her father was going to find the quintet more acceptable than the murder, but that wouldn’t mean he was comfortable with it. “The four of us were locked in together for months,” she said softly. “Anything that gave us comfort-- Well, it was going to happen. Warren was… more complicated, but he waited, for each of us, until we asked.”

Her father sighed and closed his eyes. “I wish--”

“I know.” She patted his good arm. “The kids don’t remember who they used to be, and all of the other alternatives are worse. I was always going to be a different person at twenty than I was at fourteen. At least, I still recognize myself.” Mostly. She wasn’t always sure she wasn’t like the kids in having forgotten who she used to be. Part of who she used to be. She made herself smile. “We’ll figure out a way to give you a tour.”

Seeing for himself would make the good parts more real than whatever horrors his imagination could conjure. It had to.


	3. Jim Williams: What Those Hours Cost You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Kamilah Aisha Moon's "Overheard on Bedford Avenue."

If he had realized that it would lead to seeing his daughter again, Jim Williams would have pulled that damned wall down on his own head. He’d have done it several years before sheer chance made it happen. The broken bones hurt, but they didn’t matter any more than spitting on a wildfire would have.

He could tell that Layla knew they didn’t have much time. He wouldn’t stay. He couldn’t stay. He wanted Layla to have choices again some day, and staying wouldn’t accomplish that. He wasn’t sure that leaving would get them there, either, but staying absolutely wouldn’t. He had enough pieces that he thought he understood how things stood on Sky High. Maybe.

Jim didn’t know who Wayside’s agent-- or agents-- on Sky High were. He’d never needed to know, and he still didn’t need to. The fact that he knew there was one at all was a risk to that person now. He suspected that neither Warren nor Barron Battle would believe in a cabal of non-combatants trying to help each other survive. None of the old school supers did.

Even with what he knew from Wayside, Warren was still a big hole in Jim’s data. There was a general shape to the absence now, though, because he’d talked to Layla, Ethan, Zach, and Magenta. Each of them gave him a different angle. 

Layla was the only one who thought that Warren might hurt Jim. Not one of them thought that Warren would touch Sarah. They’d considered the first risk; the second hadn’t even occurred to them as a question.

Which made Jim feel a lot better about Sarah being there. What she was seeing was certain to be more real than what he was going to be allowed to see, so her being there was an advantage. He’d just have hated for her to endanger herself for intelligence that really only served as a double check on what Wayside had already told Jim.

He talked to Sarah at least once a day and had done since he was consistently awake during the days. By then, she wasn’t actually frightened any more but clearly did know that she was gathering information. At ten years old, she shouldn’t have to know that.

“He told me to call him Warren,” she told Jim. “He doesn’t talk to me much, not directly, but I think he’s trying to show me that he’s not scary.”

Jim was pretty sure that Sarah didn’t buy the not scary thing. He sighed. “There’s a difference between not scary and not a threat to you. We both know things he’s done; he’s just not going to do any of them to you.”

Sarah nodded. “The kids, they don’t know what he could do.” She hesitated. “He doesn’t teach any classes. He’s around, plays with them, does stage magic sometimes and flame stuff other times, and they trust him, but he doesn’t teach. The other four all teach, more Layla and Ethan, but all of them do some classes.”

Jim wondered what each of them taught and if they were any good at it. Not that it mattered so much at six, but it might later on. Layla had said she was studying on her own, not for a GED because she didn’t actually need the diploma but for things that would challenge her.

Sarah fidgeted in her chair. “I wasn’t sure…” She spoke in a much lower voice than she had before. 

Jim knew that, if there were listening devices in the room, her lowering her voice wouldn’t matter. He didn’t say anything, though, because he was almost certain that there weren’t any. It was one of many things about the whole set up that puzzled him. He raised his eyebrows to encourage Sarah to go on.

“Will has photo albums at the cabin,” she said. “He showed them to me so that I’d know what Zach looked like.”

Jim nodded and wondered where this was going.

“I looked at all of them, even the really old ones, the ones from when Will’s parents were little.” She raised her chin slightly as if she thought he’d laugh at her.

He kept his regard steady and waited.

“There’s a girl named Diana who looks a lot like Will’s mother did in those pictures--” She hesitated. “--and a boy named Joe who might be Will’s father.” She wobbled a hand back and forth. “The pictures of him weren’t as good, I think. Or maybe I just don’t remember.”

Oh. Jim blinked. There wasn’t much to do with that information. He wasn’t even sure Will should know. No, Will _should_ know; Jim just might not tell him.

“I asked Zach how they named the kids, and he told me Warren tagged them all at Homecoming. Then Zach said that they decided not to keep the family names because of not wanting the kids to feel like they were expected to be who they used to be before.” Sarah didn’t look like she understood that last part. She knew that two names wrong might well mean more names wrong, but Jim was pretty sure that she didn’t understand that it meant something that those two particular names were wrong.

“Zach said,” Sarah went on, “that all the kids had nametags on their ankles for the first two or three years. Because they didn’t want to mix them up.”

“That’s a sensible thing to do with that many babies,” Jim told her. He wanted a chance to think about why Warren would have deliberately mislabeled the babies, but he was going to have to wait. He was also going to have to avoid letting himself wonder if what Warren had done constituted kidnapping given that the alternative had been Royal Pain. He didn’t think that the latter canceled out the former, but Warren’s kids were certainly happier than most of Royal Pain’s.

At this point, at least half of Royal Pain’s kids were missing. Wayside only had some of those.

*****

Warren didn’t quite come into the room. At least half of his body stayed outside the door frame. He eyed Jim for several seconds. “I expected you to be asleep.”

Jim met Warren’s eyes. “I haven’t slept well in six years.” He wasn’t going to call Warren a liar, but he couldn’t imagine why Warren would want to enter Jim’s room while Jim was sleeping.

Warren’s twitch was just noticeable enough that Jim was sure the other man hadn’t missed the unspoken blame.

Jim used his good hand to put his ereader to sleep. He left it on the stand and pushed the table the stand rested on to one side. “You might as well stop putting it off.”

Warren’s shoulders tightened enough to be noticeable, and Jim wondered if he was going to run. Instead, Warren took three steps into the room and then shut the door behind himself. “I don’t think you’ll like hearing anything I have to say.”

“Probably not.” Jim kept his eyes on Warren. “On the other hand, there’s damn all I can do about it.”

Warren laughed, sounding as if it hurt. Then he sat in the chair by the bed. He didn’t say anything, just looked at Jim.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment. He was too tired for this, but he still had to do it. He wracked his brain for a topic that might be in telescope distance of neutral then said, “Why did you shuffle the baby names?” He heard Warren shift in the chair.

Warren remained silent for a moment longer. Then he shrugged. “My mother’s powers didn’t work on Jetstream. I don’t know that it would have helped to keep her, but my options were… limited. I was trying a lot of different things.”

Warren’s mother who could alter minds. Warren’s mother who Layla had assassinated.

“I’m just as happy,” Warren continued softly, “that none of the kids will ever have to meet her.”

“What do you regret?” Jim didn’t think Warren would answer. Jim wasn’t absolutely sure that Warren would understand the question.

“I wish I’d been sane when I was fifteen.” The expression on Warren’s face didn’t make Jim think that Warren was sane at twenty one. “I don’t think any other wishes would change things.”

Jim considered that. “Wishes don’t change things generally.” He’d wished for Layla to come home often enough to be sure of that.

“Wishes coming true would, though, and that’s the one that could change things. If wishes were a thing.” Warren met Jim’s eyes then looked away. “Eventually, Layla’s going to kill me. She doesn’t have to, but she will. I’m not really sure why she hasn’t yet because it’s not that she couldn’t.”

Jim’s body went tight, and his healing limbs started to complain. He was sure that Warren believed what he was saying. Mostly. Jim tried to make that certainty fit with the girl he’d known and the woman Layla was-- seemed to be-- now.

Warren had noticed. Of course, Warren had noticed. “Magenta thinks Layla might already be the most dangerous person on the planet. Magenta just doesn’t tell people that-- not even me-- because, even if they didn’t manage to get Layla, they’d probably get all the rest of us.”

Jim heard the implications. _And then Layla would destroy everyone responsible._

“I understand the not wanting to die part,” Warren said. “I don’t so much understand the not telling people part. Layla could protect-- or not-- anyone she wanted to. I’m not sure why we’re supposed to hide it.”

Jim’s mouth was dry, but reaching for his cup was going to be awkward, so he didn’t. He was pretty sure that it wasn’t a dryness that water would really help anyway.

Warren smiled with a little sharpness that made him look both more dangerous and more crazy. “I didn’t think you knew.”

Jim coughed and cleared his throat then said, “I don’t think she wanted me to.” He still wasn’t sure he believed it, but he was sure that Warren did. That explained a lot about Warren.

Jim was also sure that Warren was deliberately trying to upset— not Jim himself but Layla. He wanted something specific. Ethan had told George in one letter that Warren did everything with intention and was very perceptive. Jim was pretty sure that Ethan hadn’t been wrong.

Jim gambled. “I just don’t see what telling me gets you.” He showed his teeth for a fraction of a second in an expression that was not friendly.

Warren’s smile faded a little. “I’d just like her to tell me, so I can stop wondering when it’ll happen. I’ll give her-- The only thing I _can’t_ give her is my father, and I would if I could. I don’t think she’s waiting for him to die, and I don’t want to die with him, not unless it’s better than whatever she wants.” He looked at his hands. “I can’t imagine it would be. I lived with my mother for fifteen years. I… don’t think Layla’s that pissed at me.”

Jim didn’t think she was either, and he focused on that rather than dealing with the part where the guy who torched people and smiled about it was afraid of what Jim’s daughter might do to him. 

Ethan, Magenta, and Zach weren’t afraid of Layla. Most of the medical staff were respectful but not afraid, not the way they were afraid of Warren.

The senior doctor, though… 

Yes, Jim was pretty certain that he was afraid of Layla and not just because she had Warren’s ear. Jim supposed that he hadn’t picked up on it before because he’d been pretty thoroughly high on painkillers most of the times he’d talked to the man.

“And you want me to ask her?” Jim wanted to be sure.

“No!” Warren shook his head vehemently. “I just-- I thought maybe you’d know. Except why you would when you didn’t _know_ \--?” His hands opened and closed several times before he went on. “When my mother died, the organism…” He shook his head again. “She was unusually vulnerable to it. Everybody who got sick had certain genetic traits. The ones who died had… several in common with her-- or with my father-- but not with each other. Such an interesting coincidence that I have all of them.”

Which was just short of saying that Layla had tailored her weapon to Warren’s DNA. Jim didn’t think that part was a lie because it was an extremely pragmatic approach. Layla’d had time.

That she could was the part that everyone would find utterly terrifying. Warren obviously assumed that Jim would understand that part.

Warren’s expression became distant. “If someone had actually murdered my mother, if there’d been any chance of that being what happened, my father would have to do something about it. I can’t imagine that she didn’t lay it on him to have to avenge her. She hadn’t gotten around to putting that on me, so I can afford to guess. I’m sure I wouldn’t have let myself consider it otherwise.”

Jim supposed that was one way to deal with growing up abused. Warren’s right hand didn’t-- couldn’t-- know what his left was doing. His mother had had her eyes on his right hand, so it had to be doing what she expected.

“But it was only a very unfortunate accident. That’s all, but… I don’t understand why I haven’t had a similar accident.”

Layla hadn’t ever specified when she mentioned that there were things in Warren’s psyche that were fundamentally broken. Jim supposed that he was seeing some of those things tonight. He also thought that the implied question was the point of the whole conversation.

Jim hesitated. He didn’t know the answer because he didn’t want Layla to be what Warren thought she was. He also didn’t want Warren to gain the leverage that he might by realizing that she wasn’t or, at least, really didn’t want to be. Layla was--

Oh. Layla was trying to be a good person by holding back and not using her power. She was confusing not using it with not having it, and Warren didn’t understand how she could have and use it on some occasions and consider herself helpless at others. Jim understood it, and it meant that Layla was as damaged as Warren, just in a different way. Layla didn’t see a way to have her powers and not be a monster.

Jim turned his head away so that Warren wouldn’t see that his eyes were leaking. They’d failed their baby girl. When she’d been born, they’d both promised her that she was safe and that they’d help her with everything hard. They’d both known that neither was something they could be sure of giving her, but they’d promised that someone would be there.

And they hadn’t been there when she needed them. She’d been locked in a prison with three other kids. Jim hadn’t been there, only four kids and Warren.

He wasn’t sure that Debra could have helped with this one. Will could have, but Layla’s mother probably couldn’t have. Will, with the superstrength, had had to learn to live with powers that could hurt people if he wasn’t very, very careful, so he’d get that Layla was afraid of that part.

Debra would have looked at what Layla could do and assumed that the ability to choose when to use the powers was enough. Debra wouldn’t realize that knowing how to choose was a skill that had to be learned and that got harder every time one choice became easier than the other. The animals Debra dealt with tended to have a lot more self than Jim thought mold spores probably did.

Mold spores probably never said no when something was a bad idea. Lemon seeds never had, and the Virginia creeper-- Well the less remembered about that, the better.

Judging by the lack of sounds, Warren hadn’t moved. He probably still wanted something.

Ten minutes later, Warren said, “She really needs you to stay.”

So Warren knew. He just wasn’t letting himself know that he knew. That made him more dangerous rather than less, but maybe, just maybe, Barron Battle’s son was making a right choice for once. It was probably for the wrong reasons, but Warren wasn’t mistaken.

“I’ll need a way to send a letter to my wife,” Jim said.

**Author's Note:**

> For the present, this is the end of the series. I may come back to it later; I also may not. I think this is a reasonable ending point, so I'm marking it complete. There's always an after to a story as long as the universe goes on, so it's a question of where I stop rather than of making everything end tidily. 
> 
> I may add other branches to the AU at some point because I can see certain circumstances causing Layla to decide she needs to accept the power she has and use it, either long before her reunion with her father or in a universe where that reunion didn't happen. Some of those other versions might actually be darker than either of the first two branches because she's likely to end up becoming very, very ruthless. None of the people on Sky High would stop her. None of them would even think to try.


End file.
